


I'll Be Your Defense

by issaMorg



Series: Commissions [6]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Combat Armor!AU, DFAB reader, F/M, Gabe is combat armor, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s), Nameless Original Characters, Reader-Insert, nameless OC death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:40:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/issaMorg/pseuds/issaMorg
Summary: You hadn’t necessarily wanted to join the military, that was your friend’s dream. Fight against the omnics, save the world! They just didn’t want to sign up alone, so you joined up with them. You figured you’d do your four years, and, if you made it through alive, you’d have a promise for a college education all paid for you.Until your friend signed up for some video-game sounding program and your dumbass was stupid enough to follow them into said program.





	I'll Be Your Defense

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shatterdreams](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shatterdreams/gifts).



> Combat armor AU! This was actually a ton of fun to write, and I meant to post it a while back oops

You hadn’t necessarily wanted to join the military, that was your friend’s dream. Fight against the omnics, save the world! They just didn’t want to sign up alone, so you joined up with them. You figured you’d do your four years, and, if you made it through alive, you’d have a promise for a college education all paid for you.

 

You struggled through bootcamp, middle to back of the pack while your friend shone and was in the top. You felt like you were dragging them back, but they always mentioned how happy they were you were there with them- so you endured. You did better, you had to in order to survive.

 

Your friend was obviously recommended by many to climb the ranks, to get better positions, for promotions or to go to special task forces.

 

They declined or purposely skewed test results if you didn’t get a similar offer, but why would you? You were mediocre, they were the best. Others began to change out of your unit, to climb the ladder and off to bigger and better places. Eventually  your friend wasn’t  _ one  _ of the best, but  _ the  _ best.

 

Then some weird scientists came, analyzing some equally weird quirk of the mind that some people had and some didn’t. On top of that, your body had to be receptive to some sample medication they gave everyone.

 

Everyone in your unit was tested for it, but to join up with the program would be entirely optional.

 

They gave a big, flowery speech about how the program would be making you one of the most capable soldiers in the military, how you could become the elite. Go from average to above and beyond. While it sounded like a load of crock to you, your friend was practically buzzing at the prospect. 

 

At least the name of the program was promising, even if it sounded like something out of a comic or game. They were calling it the Soldier Enhancement Program- SEP for short.

 

The test results weren’t promising, those who had the mental quirk couldn’t stand up to the chemicals for the most part, and those who could stand up to the chemicals didn’t have “enough of the quirk” for the scientists to bother.

 

At least, not until they got back to your friend. Surprisingly they fit the bill for both categories.

 

Even more surprisingly, when you also shone as a positive. “Just barely,” you heard one scientist mention to the other, but apparently you met some baseline just enough to qualify.

 

You didn’t plan on joining the SEP, you felt like death warmed over when you passed- you didn’t wanna think about how that would feel when in the program.

 

You didn’t think your friend would be stupid enough to sign themselves up for the Soldier Enhancement Program.

 

They were beaming when they told you, too. “This is it! We both got this opportunity, we have to take it!”

 

You didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to follow them.

 

But here you were, week after week, one of roughly a hundred others getting one chemical cocktail after the other injected. The injections sent you body into chaos- the first week you were just sick, then you were restless, the second week you’d never felt better, but that didn’t last long before you were getting very familiar with the communal toilets. Third week you were both full of energy and horribly, terribly lethargic- and everything changed so fast even from day-to-day. 

 

With such speed and such little time for allowances, there were three groups of people that you’d noticed. 

 

There were the people who couldn’t handle it, those who could, and those who fell through the cracks.

 

Those who couldn’t handle it were fairly easy to spot- they never got the upswing from week two. They tried to muddle through, but after the intense training that came with the injections they were fairly obvious. They weren’t sent away immediately, as the scientists had to make sure that the traces of the chemicals they had been given worked out of their systems. You just hoped that this counted towards their disability for when they eventually retired.

 

The second group you just barely fit in with- those who could handle it. You struggled and felt like you were barely holding together, but your friend was persevering and making friends, so you did better for them. You started making some friends too, a farm boy from Indiana seemed nice enough, along with some punk who was basically a cowboy.

 

The four of you became a tightly knit group, supporting each other on the bad days and goofing off during the good. Jack was just like your best friend- doing it to save his loved ones, while Jesse was doing this as an alternative to serious jail time.

 

You were an odd, motley bunch, but you were happy amidst the hell of SEP.

 

It wasn’t until you discovered the third group existed the hard way that you were faced with reality.

 

It started when Taggart just fell over during drills. With the amount of shit that was pumped into the group at any given time, it wasn’t as unusual anymore. Still, medics hustled over to check on him. There was no usual call of “He’s fine,” or “all’s well,” that usually was heard, they were silent. You saw them move from the neck to the wrist- looking for a pulse. CPR was started, an AED used- nothing. He was gone in the blink of an eye.

 

People kept up on alert, then. Nobody was ever alone after that, so when someone dropped there was always someone dashing and screaming for medics. Mostly they were false alarms. Sometimes there was another missing from formation the next day.

 

You never thought that you would lose one of your precious people, though.

 

You sat outside the medbay as your friend struggled to breathe their last. They had seemed to be a little off in the morning, and then collapsed during lunch.

 

The doctor looked at you pityingly as you were ushered in, it was always bad when it took longer for them to fade. “Didn’t want to die surrounded by strangers,” they mumbled before feebly waving a hand, “I figured my one guest should be my bestie.”

 

You stayed with them, waiting for the inevitable as you talked about your childhood and high school memories. Of better times, of joking around, “remember that one time-” a phrase tossed around by both of you.

 

“Promise me,” they rasped, and you both knew. They were hit by a coughing fit before they could continue, “finish this, for me. Save everyone back home, ya hear?” They gave you a weak smile, “besides, Jesse and Jack can’t be left alone- somebody has to be responsible.”

 

You gave them a teary smile, “don’t worry about them, I’ll do it. You just worry about getting yourself better,  _ you  _ hear? If anyone can beat this, it’s you.”

 

You were ushered out not long after that, your friend asleep but their pulse still weakly holding on.  You didn’t go back to your room, instead waiting outside their room for when the news eventually reached you.

 

Jack and Jesse found you there after dinner, a doctor patting your shoulder as tears streamed down your face.

 

“Gone in their sleep,” you blubbered out, “didn’t feel a thing anymore.”

 

You weren’t left alone by Jack or Jesse after that night. Neither did you want to be alone. That way, at least, if any of you went in your sleep you wouldn’t die alone.

 

It wasn’t long after that, though, when they finally decided to let you know why the remaining handful or so of people were here.

 

“Combat Armor,” a scientist stated as the wall behind them slid open to reveal roughly ten containers filled with… you couldn’t even describe them, and based on the confused and borderline disgusted faces everyone else had, nobody else could quite believe what they were seeing either. 

 

It looked like each one held some vaguely outfit-shaped blob of color that seemed to wriggle and writhe in its containment. One towards the end- the only one with a lid (albeit transparent) you noticed- seemed like it was smoking and trying to climb the walls and escape its prison.

 

“Combat armor is a recent scientific development implemented to better combat omnics. God programs can’t take control of something that’s organic, and that’s exactly what we’ve done. Combat armor will enhance aspects of your physique, along with granting abilities you could never dream of.”

 

You quirked a brow, shooting a sidelong glance at Jesse who was a little more openly skeptical. Looking at Jack you noticed he had his poker face on.

 

Good to know you were all wary that this would be some new test. At least it explained the new body suits everyone in formation wore. It seemed a bit much to give everyone a tailor-made suit that somehow made everyone feel more exposed than usual, but anything goes in this program, apparently.

 

“Wait for your number to be called and you’ll be instructed to try a suit. Each of you will try every suit, but only the highest compatibility percentages will become partners. Those who do not match with a suit will be released from the SEP program.”

 

You immediately felt the eyes of half your class on you. Since people had been falling out, you had slowly fallen to the bottom ranks.  This meant that you were probably the one to be cut- your friend’s wish will fall to the wayside you’ll be a failure you-

 

You felt a hand clap against your shoulder and jolted back to awareness as Jack walked past you to take a container held out to him- the one with the lid. Looking around, you noticed you were one of five without a container. Jack was the last to get a container, and Jesse held another one- of course they had them. They were numbers 76 and 66 respectively, you were saddled with 98.

 

“You will have ten minutes to try to bond with each suit, your compatibility will be measured throughout the entire interaction. When the time has elapsed, you will pass the suit to the lower number down the line- yes number 12 that means you will hand yours down to 100, and 100 to 98 and so on. If there is a complication the scientists are capable of removing the combat armor from you.”

 

Something about the way they said that last part was less than reassuring, honestly. 

 

Nevertheless, you had approximately twenty minutes until it was your turn to try one of the suits on. So, doing what any observer would do, you watched your friends to see how the hell they reacted to this shit.

 

Jack seemed to be having a semi-difficult time with his armor. When it wasn’t seeming like something three sizes too large, practically falling off of him, the dark, smoking, writhing mass trying to remove itself from Jack- no, not Jack, but the  _ scientists _ . You figured you were probably imagining that, but considering a big swath of Jack’s body suit showed up when a scientist went to touch the armor, you counted that as a win in your guesses. Either way, you felt like 

 

Jesse looked super uncomfortable, but his armor seemed to be content as it was sitting nice and still where others’ still writhed. You’d guess his discomfort came from a few things- but you mostly chalked it up to the fact that he couldn’t wear his hat. It looked neat enough, blue and green accents along his armored chest plates and boots. It seemed built for flexibility, and even the draping armor plates seemed flexible enough for stealth while providing support for combat. Heck, it looks like there were built in knee braces, claws on the boots, and gauntlets as well. 

 

He yelped as weapons manifested almost magically- a  _ very green _ sword appearing on his hip and a blue-accented bow in his hand. When he turned to try to get a better look at the sword, you saw he had a sorta ouroboros-like logo with two dragons on his shoulder.

 

Either someone was Japanese and wanted to express their culture, or a  _ fucking weeb _ designed this one. You just hoped it was the former as the scientists frantically scribbled notes as they fawned over the very uncomfortable cowboy.

 

You kinda gave cursory glances at the rest of your program-mates. Most were in the same position as Jack, though a few seemed halfway between Jack and Jesse, with the armor looking like it fit  _ almost _ well enough. Nobody was as far as Jesse, though.

 

And nobody had as much trouble as Jesse with getting out of the suit. It took the scientists a good three tries to get it to loosen up enough for them to pull it off Jesse, and even then it seemed to  _ grab _ for the cowboy.

 

Jack could, and did, step out of his it was so baggy. He did gather it up as it continued to shy away from the scientists, and gently pet it as it more-or-less flopped back into it’s container.

 

Down the line each one was passed. The smokey mass had no love for Jesse, just as the suit that adored Jesse had no love for 65. You watched as your friends tried suit after suit- one red, white, and blue one liking Jack almost as much as how Jesse’s suit (which let’s be real, it had to be his) liked the cowboy.

 

Still, while you tried on baggy, unresponsive suit after unresponsive suit, you found yourself watching your classmates. By “classmates,” you really meant the smoking mass as it made its rounds, along with the suits that had liked Jesse and Jack.  The first two were both apathetic, ignoring the candidates and just laying where they sat- not caring about anything (though the aversion to scientists continued for the smoking armor), while the one that liked Jack seemed to keep itself to small for people to wear by comparison.

 

The highlight of your day was officially when someone who tried on the smoking suit yelped, “IT BIT ME!” That was beautiful.

 

You were losing hope fast, however, as you got the suit that was just before Jesse’s suit. It was this one or the smoking suit, and that one seemed like it wouldn’t pick anyone.

 

You were likely to be culled, while your friends continued on in the dream- but you had to, had to succeed!

 

You yelp as a tub was shoved into your arms, number 100 glaring down at the green, blue, and grey mass. You also looked down at it, watching as it seemed to flare it’s bright colors like a defense mechanism. Looking back up to 100 and then to the scientists, you dryly quip, “I’m not touching this. It’s pretty clear who it does and doesn’t want, and I don’t want it to bite me.”

 

The colors of the suit muted in the container, and so you shrugged and walked over to chat with Jesse- much to the spluttering complaints of the scientists at your station. Fuck them anyway, they’d been giving you pitying and condescending looks all morning.

 

“Look, suit, your person is here!” you chirp as you near Jesse, the suits colors brightening slightly as it seemed to reach for the edge of the container. Tilting it down slightly so the suit could “see” the cowboy, you stopped about an arm's length away from the cowpoke.

 

You had been talking to the suit like it was sentient like a bit of a joke. You realized it was a good idea when you heard a distinct  _ hissing _ from your tub and the suit Jesse had been trying on immediately released the cowboy from it’s half-grip, falling to the ground around him.

 

Everyone went silent at the exchange, scientists frantically scribbling at this sudden change of events. You blinked and slowly handed the tub to Jesse, who numbly accepted it and seemed to pale when some fibers of the suit reached from the tub and loosely grabbed on to his hand. You busied yourself gathering the suit from around Jesse’s feet and putting it back into the tub.

 

“I think that suit should be taken out of rotation,” you whispered to the scientists, handing them the tub of quivering suit. One scientist looked like they were going to complain, and loudly, but another one shushed them and nodded to you.

 

“Their synchronization rate was 90 percent, anyways. That’s the highest we’ve seen in any armor group.”

 

Your eyebrows rose, before crinkling in confusion, “any armor group? I thought we were the first?”

 

The first scientist jerked the arm of the second, urging them not to say more, but the second waved them off, “you’re likely to not make it this round, so it’s better to tell you now,” that stung, but you couldn’t find fault in the logic. Not with your scores and the suits’ utter lack of reaction. 

 

“We’ve tried multiple combinations, and there have been combat armor programs in a fair spread of different countries. We build our own suits and test them on our citizens, but we found by accident that some suits are compatible with people from other countries- this suit for example is from Japan, that it became partial to one of our citizens is not surprising. Many are on loan from other countries, but we have to be careful how we rotate them- therefore any people who are cut from one group remain for the next. It continues like that until, eventually, the candidates have rotated through all available suits- then they’re officially cut from the program.”

 

A fleeting thought was ‘ _ thank God it wasn’t the weebs. _ ’ 

 

You blinked owlishly at the scientist before pointing to the smoking suit, now draped on number 100’s form. “And that one?”

 

The first scientist chimed in, “oh, that’s one of the first prototype suits we made. Those are traditionally more spirited than the others, and no matter how many thorough reconditioning attempts we’ve tried, it refuses to change. It’s power levels are high, higher than most as the prototypes were, but it refuses to accept a host. Any forced bonding resulted in damage to the host, so we just keep it in rotation. As for the rest of the prototypes, they’ve found partners somewhere or another. It’s odd, really.”

 

You didn’t question them anymore, just turning and heading back to your station. That ‘thorough reconditioning’ suddenly made the suit’s aversion to scientists make sense, at least.

 

Speaking of, the tub for it was kicked over to where you stood, 100 cringing away and practically spitting “get that  _ thing _ away from me,” before shuddering.

 

You sighed before taking the lid off and picking the tub up. “Just you and me, huh friend?” You watched as the suit seemed to shift away, to scoot back towards the back of the tub. You sighed, before sitting and gently placing the tub on its side, giving the suit the option to move forward or not. “I’m not gonna fight you on this, you’ve been fighting alone for a long time. If I can at least give you what, nine minutes of rest? I’ll sit here with you, just you and me. I won’t let them poke or prod you.”

 

You said that last part, shooting a look at the scientists around you. One had started moving, as if to force the suit to you, but as you started speaking to it they all paused. Shooting various looks at you- disbelief, disgust, and indignation- they did acquiesce to your demands and backed off, grumbling amongst one another. One scientist stepped forward, “You have to try the suit, unless you want to be cut from-”

 

Your snort interrupted them, though you still leaned protectively over the tub, your arms gently resting on the top of the tub. “I’ll get to try again next time around. Or the time after that. Or the time after that. Every time until every suit rejects me- I’m not going anywhere. You can’t force me to make the suit more uncomfortable than it already is.”

 

The scientist rolled their eyes, “It’s barely sentient, it looks for the mental quirk to latch onto people’s motor functions and from there interpret and utilize what the chemicals we’ve been injecting have been unlocking. IT is a tool not a-”

 

Everyone in your area stopped as fibers wrapped around the meat of your bicep. Your gaze was pulled down to notice the suit half sprawled in front of you, fibers slowly wrapping around your limbs. “Wha-?”

 

You barely had time for the question to pass from your lips before the suit burst into a cloud of smoke that enveloped you in seconds. Shock from the scientists was only vaguely noted as you felt panic and some foreign sensation slide over your mind like a thick, cold syrup. 

 

The sensation took all of your attention in that instant, paying attention to the steadily building presence. A muffled voice slowly began to become easier understand, the gravelly tone slowly shifting into words.

 

“They’re preparing to break us apart,  _ Muñequita _ , act quickly. I’m putting my trust in you, don’t make me regret it.”

 

Your head jolts up to see the scientists surrounding you, those not already armed grabbing the device to forcibly remove the armor from the wearer. You jolted backward. You had to back up, get away, but you would be too slow-

 

Your world shifted, you seemed to slide and float back away from and  _ through _ some of the scientists, before you were solid and on your feet once more. You gasped as oxygen was once more filling your lungs, and all eyes were on you, some scientists gobsmacked and Jesse with a shit-eating grin.

 

He whistled and clapped obnoxiously, Jack taking a moment to join in. 

 

You beamed and gave them a thumbs up, expression shifting to confusion when you saw a clawed gauntlet. It dawned on you just as a deep chuckle slid along the back of your mind. “Connecting the dots now,  _ Muñequita _ ?”

 

You looked yourself over, you had relatively lightweight armor on your vital areas, a tough bodysuit layered just over the issued one. On top of it you had a trench coat, heavy boots, and the gauntlets. Overall it seemed a bit of a heavy ensemble, so how did you get here…?

 

“Our powers did that. You needed out, I didn't want to be there, so I moved us with what you’ve been given by these… People.”

 

“Hey!” You were shaken out of your conversation by Jack, “you in there? We’ve been trying to talk to you and you were unresponsive. Everything okay?”

 

You nodded, “yeah yeah, just… Trying to figure out what just happened. I wasn't expecting this, honestly.” You gestured to yourself, more specifically the outfit that shrouded you.

 

The head scientist pushed his way in front of you, “Number 98, remove the combat armor at once. It is a danger to you, with your mental aptitude.”

 

A spear of fear spiked in your gut, encompassing you before a foreign sensation of rage replaced it. “How high,” you demanded, your voice low and a frown just shy of a snarl on your face.

 

It was the scientist’s turn to look confused, “how high is what?”

 

“How high is our synchronization rate. I have a right to know.”

 

The head scientist scoffed, clearly rebuking your statement, all the while there was some murmuring. Before your opponent could deny you the right, a nameless face in the crowd came forth, “Synchronization rate is 95 percent, a new record.”

 

You gestured over to the now glared at lackey, “95. A new record. Aptitude or not, I think we’re okay.”

 

There was a flurry of movement and a dull buzz of voices as the scientists talked it over. Jesse trotted over to you, having donned his own suit in a show of solidarity. “Jus’ felt right is all,” he waves off when you smile at him knowingly.

 

You’re fairly certain he just wanted to know what kinda neat shit he could pull with it. You pulled him aside, “do you... Hear a voice? From the suit?”

 

He gave you a confused expression before raising two fingers and wiggling them, clearly about to ask a question of his own when Jack came over. You two turned and smiled at him as he rolled his eyes, “Of course you two would be troublemakers,” he teased, flicking your hood off- you had a hood on?- to ruffle your hair much to your spluttering and gentle flailing (gentle being you just minded your new claws).

 

There was a pointed cough, and when the three of you turned the head scientist stood there, looking like they swallowed a lemon. You felt a general sense of victory as they managed to grit out, “The academic consensus is that yes, you are allowed into the next stages of the program, simply due to your synchronization levels. Should they dip too severely, however, your position is to be revoked. Are we clear?”

 

You beamed as you happily quipped, “Sir, yes sir!”

* * *

You looked at the suit as it lay, draped across your bunk. You had taken a shower after the suit finally let you go, and when you came back to it it was like… this.

 

Gone was all the armor and trenchcoat, in its place was a black shearling jacket. You ran your hand across it again, the material smooth and the fluff sinfully soft. If you hadn't known it was armor you would’ve thought someone just left an expensive jacket on your bunk.

 

You hummed as you stood, picking up the armor and sliding it on. You felt the presence slide onto you again, warmer this time- like sliding into cooling bathwater.

 

“Mmm, I don't suppose I ever thanked you,  _ cariño _ ,” the voice practically purred as goosebumps spread from the feel of the sleeves almost… petting you it felt like.

 

“Thank me? For what, being a decent person?” You shivered as the feather light touches continued their ministrations on you, prompting responses you’d rather not think clothing was giving you-

 

You gasped before  immediately slapping a hand over your mouth, to halt the spread of the sound. You were suddenly  _ very _ glad the SEP allowed for separate rooms, and that you, Jesse, and Jack had decided to give each other room so that the armors won't imitate earlier and  _ hiss _ at one another. Jesse with his dual-personality armor, Jack with his red-white-and-blue regalia, and you with your smoking suit.

 

You sighed again as the suit made its intent more insistent, more prominent, more known. You hummed contentedly as your nipples were played with through your tank-top to the point of pebbling. Your head lolled back contentedly as he continued his ministrations, just idly basking in the licking flames of desire that warmed the pit of your stomach. Not enough to rock your world, but it was definitely putting you in the right mood. 

 

“What should I call you,” you mumbled as the sensations slowly began to build, your body letting you know you were definitely becoming interested in continuing down this path. You felt his chuckle roll across the back of your mind, and you half expected an answer. 

 

However, he ignored the question as he continued playing with your form- nipples sensitive to his affections and your sides being soothingly caressed. “I’ve gone by many names,  _ Muñequita _ , call me what you will,“ he purred, and you yelped as you felt something nip your side. You sighed again as it was soothed by his touches, and the process repeated occasionally as he slowly climbed your torso.

 

He played you like you were a finely tuned instrument he’d known his whole life, not a sentient jacket who had some weird mental connection to you from the last six hours. It was something you weren’t used to, the overwhelming attention to your body and its reactions a pleasant surprise.

 

You chalked all his knowledge up to being mentally connected to you as he flicked your bundle of nerves. You didn't know when he had lengthened his form to reach your nethers, but the sudden feeling was surprising and  _ just right _ . You arched into the touch, muffling your whines and moans into the sleeve actively pushed against your mouth.

 

“Keep quiet now,  _ Muñequita _ , don’t want your friends to hear you now- these walls aren’t as thick as you’d think.”

 

It was true, both Jack and Jesse snored like chainsaws, and it had sounded like both of them were in the room with you even during the days before they  _ were  _ in the room with you.

 

You felt your tank top being pushed up your chest as the armor set to work, “take it all off, or I’ll remove them myself,” his voice was more of a growl than a purr, demanding more than anything. Still, you found yourself nodding nonetheless and moving to do as he said. He wouldn’t let you open the jacket up, so you had to scrunch your arms down the sleeves to get them free from the tank-top, just enough to shimmy it up over your neck and take it off that way.

 

Your breath caught in your throat as he nipped your chest directly as you slid your arms back in the sleeves. From there, the feeling of being caressed increasing tenfold with the sudden expanse of skin you exposed to him. Special attention was paid to your nipples, and you shuddered as they were played with.

 

You made quick work of your underwear at that, your breath hitching in your throat as that only gave him more access to you.

 

You finally eased yourself onto the bed as the sensations began to become exponentially more overwhelming, sinking you deep into the haze of pleasure. You pressed the sleeve harder onto your mouth as the armor began teasing your entrance with something blunt and girthy. You gave a sharp squeak as what felt like a tongue started toying with your bundle of nerves.

 

You whined into the sleeve as the phallic shape pressed against your opening, parting your flesh to fill you in a way you hadn't realized you needed. You could feel it throb as you clenched down on it, taking a moment to just feel how full this was making you feel.

 

“Hold on,  _ Muñequita _ , it's only just begun.”

 

That was all the warning you got before the armor set a fervent pace, your jaw falling slack and your hand clamping down to try to contain the wanton moans that spilled forth. That You were also being positively feasted upon by the tongue-like -Tendril? Fiber? Organ?- protrusion that your senses were bombarded with such vivid pleasure didn't help your resolve.

 

You muffled your cries of passion as best as you could, biting your lip and covering your mouth with a clenched fist, but the armor knew. He knew how intense you felt, the rush of arousal hot and heady in his senses.

 

“Gah! Ayy, pl-” you couldn't form a coherent sentence, let alone words.

 

“What's my name,  _ Muñequita?”  _ He purred, finding that sweet spot that made you see stars and yelp from behind the sleeve.

 

“Gabriel! Gabe, Gabe oh please,” you babbled, not knowing where the name came from but knowing that it was _his_. He chuckled, what would've ordinarily seemed like a malevolent noise instead warming you and making you clench tighter around him.

 

“Good choice, I like it,” he groaned, the length buried in you throbbing with each thrust and the steady pace becoming sloppier. “You’ll call that name when I make you fall apart, do you understand me,  _ Muñequita _ ?”

 

You nodded and chanted his name like a prayer, toes curling as your end came upon you. His name turned into a high-pitched keen as you saw stars, clamping down like a vice on his intrusion and the tongue prolonging your pleasure. You felt some sort of fluid release inside just moments after, but you didn’t question it. 

 

The world was a strange one where you were a partner to a combat armor, which is a sentient individual, and he can jizz. Cool. Awesome.

 

You pulled your hand away from your mouth, panting as your body quivered from aftershocks. You lay sprawled on your bed, you probably just ruined your covers with this shebang, but it was so worth it.

 

You felt the length slide out of your opening, and the tongue recede with it. “That was fun,  _ Muñequita _ , we’ll have to do this more often. Now get some rest, you need it.”

 

You sleepily nodded before committing to just  enough activity to get under your covers, where you immediately fell asleep when your head hit the pillow, still swaddled in the Shearling coat.

 

You didn't regret a thing, even when you showed up to breakfast in the coat to be met with the shit-eating grin of Jesse. “So, who's this Gabriel fella?”

 

You groaned as your head hit the table, ignoring the cackle that ran through your mind and the feeling of a reassuring hand trailing down your spine.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I take [commissions](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1-c1q0M4nx-b1fJnfgQew1pIyTS0gXF0_oKFyqWjO2KY). Message me on [tumblr](issamorg.tumblr.com/ask) for more info!


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